On Monday, the first truly gorgeous day of spring, the kids and I went to visit a local farm. They (and probably every other kid around here) call it “Eggs Farm” but it’s really called Flamig Farm. For two hours, I was able to indulge in the fantasy that we lived on a farm. (Well, how about a farm of just happiness and good times and fuzzy, cuddly animals that don’t end up on our dinner table. I did say it was a fantasy.)
This little piglet is named Lucky. He is two days old and he’s an adorable (and noisy!) little thing, but he was named Lucky for a reason; he is the only one of his litter to survive. Apparently his mama pig is young and not experienced in how to care for piglets. The staff member referred to her as a “teen mom.” Maybe she’ll get her own exploitative reality show.
Look, I realize my kids will never be farm kids. They’ll most likely never muck out a stall, ride on top of a pickup truck filled with bales of hay, or risk being pecked in the face by a chicken. Now that I think about it, I was never really a farm kid yet I did those things. I grew up in a very small town but we did have a horse; I was like Pippi Longstocking, riding through town and giving all the neighborhood kids a ride. I spent lots of time on farms and have the chicken-peck scar to prove it. Aside from trips like this to Flamig, the closest my kids are going to get to farm life is reading “Charlotte’s Web.” I think Flamig and other local farms offer camps in the summer so maybe I will pay to have my kids experience stall-mucking after all. (ASIDE: As I was working on this post, this article came across my desk: “The Hygiene Hypothesis: Exploring the Connection Between Allergies and an Agrarian Lifestyle.” According to Mother Earth Living, studies have shown that children who grow up on farms have fewer allergies than those who don’t. Hmmm . . .END OF ASIDE)
The boys got dirty. By “dirty” I don’t just mean dirt, either; the following lines may or may not have been uttered at one point: “Look, pieces of chocolate to feed the goats!” “Uh, guys, that’s not chocolate . . . DROP IT IMMEDIATELY!” They were licked by an assortment of four-legged creatures. They fell down. They got back up. They fell down again. There were some tears. They got bitten by a piglet. They fell into a pricker bush. They spent more time playing in the “bus” (farm trolley) than they did playing with the real live animals. They said, “I wanna go home!” They refused to go home. They said they wanted a piglet, a chicken, five dogs and five cats to take home. All in all, a fun farm afternoon.